


Would he be Proud?

by ashleigh



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: All grown up Harry, Gen, Post Hogwarts AU, warning; I cried while writing this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 08:14:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4739228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashleigh/pseuds/ashleigh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is preparing for his first sorting feast as Headmaster of Hogwarts when an old face drops by and brings up some old feelings and new comforts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Would he be Proud?

Alright so I know this is nowhere near what I usually write but I got this idea in my head and it just would not go away. And I know because it’s not a pairing, a lot of people will never find this story but I just felt it would be a nice little head cannon to add to the Harry Potter universe. So enjoy this small slice of how I imagine Harry’s future.

 

OOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOO

 

Harry Potter stared at his own reflection in the antique glass door cabinet. When had he started to look so old? His hair was now more grey than black, the silver haven begun at his temples and now gave him a ‘salt and pepper’ look as Ginny called it. Harry had never considered himself vain however he couldn’t deny the slight panic he’d felt when the lines in his face began to deepen and he was unashamed to say he was pleased his eyes had retained their brilliant green. 

“Fifty-five and still reckless Harry.” He muttered at his reflection, his heart beating faster when he noticed the time from the large clock sitting in the corner of the room. Another hour and the sorting feast would begin. 

He was seriously beginning to question his sanity for accepting the offer from the Minister. What did he know about running a school? The only teaching he’d done was his annual Defense against the Dark Arts lessons to the older students doing their NEWTS. Harry knew all of this and yet, he’d accepted almost immediately. He was getting too old for chasing down dark wizards anyway.

Turning around he surveyed the round office, taking in the cluttered space. Forty years and three headmasters later, the room still looked the way he remembered it for the most part, filled with strange equipment and oddities which he still didn’t recognize and would be willing to bet their secrets had gone with Dumbledore to the grave. Of course other Headmasters and Headmistresses had left their mark on the room and although he had been given full permission to decorate the way he wished, he knew he wouldn’t. There was too much history in this room. 

There was a knock at the door and he wondered how whoever it was had gotten past the phoenix, he hadn’t had time to set a password yet. Glancing down at himself, he straightened his robes, a deep blue with silver trim, to make sure he was presentable. The last thing he needed was to look a mess his first night on the job. 

“Come in!”

His greeting died in his throat when Minerva McGonagall walked through the door. He hadn’t seen her in years, not since her retirement party. She still looked the same, stern and strict, grey hair in a tight bun. And Harry found himself feeling like a teenager again under her gaze. 

“Professor.” He greeted her with a small smile, which she returned; her face softening into he’d only seen a handful of times. 

“I haven’t been your professor for nearly 40 years.” She answered, making her way into the office. 

He noticed her hesitate for barely a second, her eyes quickly taking in the room and he realized she wouldn’t have been back since her retirement. Harry had never had the nerve to ask her why she’d retired after so few years as Headmistress. Her excuse had been old age, but she had barely been in her seventies, still young for a witch although no one had said anything at the time. Harry had always secretly thought that being in Hogwarts during the War had taken its toll on her, and memories in the years afterwards had haunted her. 

He could see it in her eyes as she took in the office; no one knew what haunted eyes looked like better than he did. 

“Old habits die hard, don’t they?” he chuckled. 

“That they do, Mr. Potter.” 

“Please, sit.” He gestured towards the empty chair in front of his desk. 

She smiled at him but shook her head. “I wont be here long. I just wanted to congratulate you.” She looked around the room, her posture softening and her hand folding together in front of her. “I must admit, when I heard who would be taking the job I was… well I’m not shocked by much these days, but somehow Mr. Potter, you still manage it.” 

He laughed softly. It was odd talking to her again after so many years; it was like his life had come around in one big loop. He saw her eyes drift to the portraits above his head, Dumbledore and Snape sleeping in their frames. She took a deep breath and smiled sadly at them and if her eyes had a certain mistiness to them that was no business of him.

When she looked back to him there was fondness shinning through her eyes, a fondness he recognized from a lifetime ago and suddenly his eyes were no longer completely dry either. 

“He would have been so proud of you.” 

Even after all these years, her words still made his throat clench tightly and his eyes sting. Those words coming from her meant everything to him. 

“Thank you professor. And thank you for coming here.” He managed to choke out, feeling foolish for his reaction.

“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” She answered. She turned to leave but paused before turning back to him. “I do have one question.”

“Anything.”

“Why did you take this job? You had a career in the Ministry most work their whole lives striving for. In a few years you could have been Minister of Magic, why give that up?” 

Harry swallowed tightly. He’d been asked that same question a hundred times since the announcement was made. From Ginny and his family, from Ron and Hermione, not to mention every reporter he ran into and to each he had given the same answer, that he was tired of the stress and the danger, that it was time for the quiet, uneventful life he’d always wanted. But that wasn’t the real reason; the real reason was much harder to put into words. 

“I…” Before could stop himself, he’d started running his hands through his hair and making McGonagall smile. “I spent my majority of my childhood feeling like an outcast, feeling like there was something wrong with me, that I was different.” Talking about this was odd; it had been so long since Harry had thought about his life before magic. “And then I came here, and all that changed. I mean I was still different, but I never felt like I didn’t belong.”

McGonagall was looking at him differently now, frowning slightly and watching his face closely. 

“When I first arrived of the Hogwarts Express and we all got on the boats, I remember being on the lake and looking up at the castle, and feeling the magic in the air, and I knew.” He paused to take a breath; he’d never actually spoken to anyone about this before, not in so much detail. 

“Knew what?”

“That I had finally come home.” He answered with a wet smile. “That is what Hogwarts should be for every student who walks through those doors. I have been offered the chance to make Hogwarts that, how could I turn that down?” 

Harry had to take a minute to rein in his wandering emotions; he could feel the wetness trying to escape his eyes. When he had regained his control he looked over at McGonagall he saw that she had had no such luck as tears where streaming down her face and panic swelled inside him.

“Professor? Are you ok?” he asked quickly, blinking rapidly when she laughed in response. 

 

“Oh Harry.” She whispered tearfully. “You are so much like him, so much more than you know. And you will make a fantastic Headmaster, and do a better than I ever did.”

“You were a fantastic teacher!” he objected.

“Damn right I was.” McGonagall chuckled. “But being Headmaster or Headmistress of Hogwarts is not about being an excellent teacher, Hogwarts has always been more than a school. I’ve always known that, but I’ve never understood it, not really. Not the way Albus did, not the way you do.” 

Before Harry could answer the clock began to chime, it was time for him to make his way down to the great hall before the students arrived. 

“And I believe that’s my cue to leave.” 

“You could stay for the feast? I’m sure everyone would be happy to see you.” He suggested, his motives slightly selfish, it’d be nice to have a friendly face next to him on his first night. 

McGonagall shook her head. “I’ve had more than my fair share of sorting feasts over the years. There’s a nice glass of brandy waiting for me at home. If you ever need anything, I’m only a firecall away. Although I suppose you’ve quite grown out of needing advice from old teachers?”

“Never.” 

As she made her way over to the door Harry couldn’t help calling out. “Goodnight Minerva.” To which he received a brilliant smile in return. 

“Goodnight Headmaster.”


End file.
